Curse Curse Curse!
You've got backpacks full of dreamin' you've got pockets full of sin
You've got a funny little smell on you from all that travellin'
You've got paychecks full of nothing you've got fridges full of ink
And your feet they need a washin' in a sturdy kitchen sink, oh where's the water, where's the wasteland
Where's my second apple pie? where's the quiet little spot I go whenever I can cry
Where's that bunch of plastic roses, where's your blanket, where's your head
To the forest to the desert go somewhere before you're
You've got treasures to the rafters, you've got eyes like chiseled glass
You've got sand caught in your eyelashes and lungs so you just ask me what you
Need and I will get it, I will get it if I can, cause your eyes don't look like livin'
And I bet you need a hand - me all your stockings, please don't match them
Give me mops and rags are brooms
And when I've worked myself near to death I'll try to find that room
Again I'm tired, oh I'm tired, like I never thought I'd be
Never knew that I would do this no it doesn't sound like me
Always one for asking questions, don't you hear them all around?
Why's that like they're slowly drowning? What's that pretty, awful pound
Between my ears I have the answers, but I wish they never were
Wish i's better at forgetting, cause the poundings like a curse
CURSE CURSE CURSE!
CURSE CURSE CURSE!
Don't you hear it; can't you hear it, under momma's angry shush?
Drown in helplessness and hopelessness but still we push and push
Knowing darkness isn't something you can pull out like a tooth
But what will you do what will you choose now that you have the truth
You can hide up in the mountains, let the mist cover you up
But the messages will still appear in tea leaves in your cups
You can hear it in the whistling of wind between the trees
So I'll ask again what will you do, with the least of these? the least of these?
You've got a funny little smell on you from all that travellin'
You've got paychecks full of nothing you've got fridges full of ink
And your feet they need a washin' in a sturdy kitchen sink, oh where's the water, where's the wasteland
Where's my second apple pie? where's the quiet little spot I go whenever I can cry
Where's that bunch of plastic roses, where's your blanket, where's your head
To the forest to the desert go somewhere before you're
You've got treasures to the rafters, you've got eyes like chiseled glass
You've got sand caught in your eyelashes and lungs so you just ask me what you
Need and I will get it, I will get it if I can, cause your eyes don't look like livin'
And I bet you need a hand - me all your stockings, please don't match them
Give me mops and rags are brooms
And when I've worked myself near to death I'll try to find that room
Again I'm tired, oh I'm tired, like I never thought I'd be
Never knew that I would do this no it doesn't sound like me
Always one for asking questions, don't you hear them all around?
Why's that like they're slowly drowning? What's that pretty, awful pound
Between my ears I have the answers, but I wish they never were
Wish i's better at forgetting, cause the poundings like a curse
CURSE CURSE CURSE!
CURSE CURSE CURSE!
Don't you hear it; can't you hear it, under momma's angry shush?
Drown in helplessness and hopelessness but still we push and push
Knowing darkness isn't something you can pull out like a tooth
But what will you do what will you choose now that you have the truth
You can hide up in the mountains, let the mist cover you up
But the messages will still appear in tea leaves in your cups
You can hear it in the whistling of wind between the trees
So I'll ask again what will you do, with the least of these? the least of these?
Credits
Writer(s): Empty Disco
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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